


A Blonde and Brunet

by orionstarlight



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bucky is a wealthy rich guy, Con Artists, F/M, He runs an illegal business but she’s doesn’t know, Nat cons Bucky, Rich and Richer, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21955321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orionstarlight/pseuds/orionstarlight
Summary: She smiles coyly, something he’s been longing to see ever since that first night. “Easy target. And before you ask, it was the clothes. If you could afford that many labels, you could easily replace them. No sentimental value, just materialistic. You’re not as hard to read as you think.”She’s always been a thief. He’s always been rich. It’s about time Natasha and James’ paths crossed in a most strange way.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Winterwidow
Kudos: 15





	A Blonde and Brunet

Her hair is bound in ringlets, bouncing on her shoulders, black like a raven. The dress she wears is tight and loose, golden and shimmery in the lighting of the room. She is not interested in much else but her drink, glancing around like a seemingly harmless predator searching for prey.

She hesitates for a moment before setting down her drink and walking into a man accidentally or on purpose, depending on which way you look at it. After all, her acting of embarrassment too much like the real thing to determine. She apologises profusely, trying to go on her way, but the gentleman stops her with a strong (but well-meaning) hand on her arm.

“Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you, Dollface?”

“No, I’m okay. You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve always had problems with my clumsiness,” she says, turning away in what looks like practised shyness. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”

He looks down at his phone, someone still chattering on the other end. “Nothing important at all, don’t worry.” He ends the call.

“Well, I won’t be keeping you.” She bats her eyelashes to reveal two innocent green eyes and she walks away, looking at his wallet and watch now in her purse the moment she’s no longer facing him. She smiles, proud of herself for managing the theft so smoothly. It’s not a rare occurrence, but still she feels it’s worth congratulating herself on completing the job.

Her heels lead her gracefully away from the so-called ‘scene of the crime’, not daring to look back at the man from whom she stole. There is no spoken reason behind her cons or the games she plays on people apart from her clear enjoyment or the small rush of adrenaline they provide. Just for a moment, she becomes someone else, someone walking on the tightrope between law and chaos. It requires great skill and self-restraint not to completely fall prey to the world of criminal activity, doing nothing more than dipping your toe in the water every once in a while.

Her penthouse across the road has a perfect view of the casino, and by the time she’s made her way on the balcony with a glass of champagne, wig on the bed revealing her auburn locks, the man is outside searching for her but yielding no result. She’s gone into the wind.

* * *

The sun is setting on the beach, illuminating the sky with a wonderful array of oranges and reds. The horizon seems never-ending, like a pathway to a distant land of magic and fantasy. Her white dress and blonde waves are pushed about by the evening wind, the diamonds on her fingers and neck and in her ears glittering above all else.

She has no goal tonight, no hidden agenda, just enjoying herself for a little bit before she has to go back to work.

It feels nice, the breeze on her skin. It cools her down and keeps her grounded. She has to be careful not to drift too far in fear of getting caught, and the best way to do that is to take a few days off work every once in a while.

She didn’t choose this lifestyle, but no one ever does. No, this lifestyle chooses you, and you either get good or get dead. It gets difficult, especially when you have to abandon hope of meeting someone and developing relationships or even just plain friendships, but you do eventually get used to it. It might take a while, but sooner or later this life becomes all you know.

She lays down on the sand, watching the waves crash against the land, curiously comparing her own routine to the tide’s, how they both have to draw back every once in a while to establish a sense of balance. Almost like a game of cat and mouse, but not quite. No, she’s more like another cat, running after a mouse impossible to see. Maybe it’s luck, maybe it’s experience, but more than likely it’s a combination of both. She’s always had fortune with destiny.

She picks up her shoes and walks back along the path she came, streetlights casting her shadow on the stone pavement. The blonde wig is still holding on tightly despite the wind, the cotton dress stroking ever so lightly against her calves. The wind blows slightly too hard.

She turns, glancing around, searching for a shadow other than her own, but finds no sign to indicate someone else’s presence. Whoever they were, they’re careful not to be seen, another mouse disguised as a cat. Albeit impressed, she’s wary, checking over he shoulder the entire walk home.

* * *

Her fortune increased greatly a few hours ago, managing to secure a collector’s stamp so valuable that it could one day be worth more than the Romanov dynasty, but the risk of waiting a while was too great and she passed it off to her buyer for a sum worth her while.

It’s not so much about the money itself, but what it represents. It shows that she is successful, that she herself is worth more than she could ever be paid, and that reputation makes her more valuable than any other criminal. She knows this, welcomes it, broadcasts it, even if under a fake name. The Black Widow is infamous throughout the entire industry, one of the very few people you can count on to get the job done as well as negotiating a fair deal.

The handle to the safe is turned, keeping her payments out of harm’s way, guaranteeing her a comfortable lifestyle to gather, and to see them gone would be an awful shame. She’d be capable of securing more assets in a heartbeat, yes, but it’s more about sentimental value than anything. Every jewel, piece of gold, artefact – they all have a story behind them, stories that are hard to let go of sometimes.

With a glass of wine in her hand, she lays down on the sofa, taking in the classical music floating around her. It’s one of the only things that calms her down anymore, the notes soft and gentle in her ears. She doesn’t quite understand the phenomenon, but she’s grateful for it, for the way it brings her comfort.

“Are you just going to stand there all day or will you finally pluck up the courage to try to kill me?”

She sensed them a while ago, but she didn’t want to rush. Taking your time makes this job sweeter, she’s learnt, and that’s a lesson she takes with her everywhere. It’s important she’s alert, but acting on something is a whole different ball game. Until the threat is imminent, there is no point in being rash.

She stands up, pours a second glass, and holds it out to the intruder. “It’s about time you showed yourself. I’m surprised it took you so long to join me, especially when you take into account how romantic the beach is.”

He is hesitant to take the glass, probably wondering if it’s poisoned, but she takes a sip to assure him it’s not. He pretends like his hands aren’t shaking, but her eyes are trained to notice the little things. He’s determined, but he’s also see-through, little beads of sweat on the base of his neck. This isn’t something he’s ever done before, and it’s up to her to guide him through it.

“How did you know I was here?” His voice is just as she remembers it. Soft. Husky.

She puts down her drink and says, “Instinct is what I’ve called it all these years, a very accurate gut feeling of mine. I’m rather proud of it actually, of its precision most of all.” She looks him up and down once more. “You’re not here to kill me, are you?”

“No,” he admits. His demeanour shifts then, a new look in his eyes, one of confidence and self-assurance. “You’re… talented in ways I am not. I admire that in people. It’s a fascinating quality to have, and I want to know more about you. More about how you do what you do.”

She ponders his speech for a minute, watching intently as he drains his glass. She finds him curious, the thing that drew her to him in the first place reappearing. Everything about him is compelling, something so irresistible about the way he managed to track her down just to talk. How could she ever deny a man so dedicated to his work?

“I was trained from a young age along with the other girls I lived with. We were made perfect long before we knew what perfect was.” She sees no point in denying him the truth, but it’s also an opportunity for her to confront it. “The people we were to work for determined to have the best thieving puppets money could buy, and that meant brainwashing young girls into doing what they needed. Finish the mission, no questions asked. It was simpler that way. Less fuss.

“But finally some of us realised that we could leave that behind, albeit the cost being becoming even more elusive ghosts than we already were. We didn’t exist in the real world, not a trace of ever being born, and that was how things had to stay. The shadows became our home, and on the rare occasion we get together for a job, we don’t dare keep any record of having met.”

His throat is dry, not a word capable of leaving his mouth. He doesn’t quite know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Her whole life story summarised in one evening. Both of them finished off the bottle of wine over the course of the story, every statement requiring liquid courage to get through. _Liquid courage._ What a stupid nickname for alcohol.

“So, why me?” he finally asks. “Why choose me out of all the people in that casino?”

She smiles coyly, something he’s been longing to see ever since that first night. “Easy target. And before you ask, it was the clothes. If you could afford that many labels, you could easily replace them. No sentimental value, just materialistic. You’re not as hard to read as you think.”

“I was rather attached to that Rolex you stole,” he admits, sitting down next to her finally. “Belonged to my grandfather who died in the war. Passed down from generation to generation. I was going to pass it down to my own son one day, should I have one.”

She leans in close, their noses not quite touching yet.

“The model you were wearing had just come out three weeks ago, modelled after their vintage products. If it really was from the war period, I’d have fetched a pretty penny for it, but it’s not. Better to wait for something to become valuable rather than just selling to be rid of it.” Her eyes twinkle. “As a businessman, I would have thought you knew how to lie better.”

“Oh, I know how to lie. Question is how to lie to find out what you want.” His eyes twinkle too. “I’ll be having that watch back now, Dollface.”

“You mean this one?” she asks, rolling up her sleeve. It fits her flawlessly after having undergone some adjustments, and suddenly he doesn’t want it in his possession anymore. It looks perfect on her pale wrist, like that is the place destiny carved out for it. His fingertips make contact and a current passes through them that feels more powerful than lightning.

A kiss – it cannot be helped in the heat of the moment. Though sudden, it is not unwanted, and neither party does not bother to stop themselves. The taste of both innocence and betrayal has an unexpected sweetness to it, and this is, in a most cliché form, the spark they have been awaiting the return of, a spark that holds countless possibilities of a future neither one of them would have ever imagined without the other, and perhaps that is where the sweetness comes from, of knowing life together is now the only life that is worth living, dangerous or not, and they will not let it be taken from them.

**Author's Note:**

> [my ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/erissapphic)


End file.
